


Winter Wish

by Jezunya



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bilbo POV, First Meetings, Fluff, Kid Fic, M/M, Mid-Winter Celebrations, Prompt Fic, holiday fic, no christian holidays to be found here tyvm, shameless fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-12
Updated: 2015-12-12
Packaged: 2018-05-06 09:24:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5411534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jezunya/pseuds/Jezunya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frodo climbs up onto the stepstool, Bilbo’s hand on his back to steady him, and grasps the edge of the table in his little hands, carefully following the two DJs’ instructions of <i>not too close</i> and <i>speak slowly and clearly</i> and <i>you’re doing great, kid</i>, and then, when they nod and tell him to start, he says, right into the microphone:</p><p>“My Winter Wish is for my uncle to get a boyfriend.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winter Wish

**Author's Note:**

> From [this post on tumblr](http://jezunya.tumblr.com/post/135068739699/hallmark-movie-any-fandom-fic-prompts-holiday), submitting Hallmark holiday movie summaries as fic prompts:
> 
> _**All I Want For Christmas:** A nine-year-old boy enters a corporate-sponsored contest in which entrants are asked for their greatest Christmas wish. Unbeknownst to his widowed mother he asks the contest organizers to help her find a new husband._
> 
> I have two final papers due on Monday and three final exams this week to prepare for, so obviously this is what I've spent my afternoon working on. Enjoy!

It’s a cute idea, Bilbo has to admit as they step up to the front of the line. He’d brought his little nephew, Frodo, to the mall for some Yuletide shopping, and to take pictures with Lady Winter – not the _real_ Lady Winter, obviously, as Frodo, at all of six years old, had explained to him, just a nice actor who was here representing her. Still, the boy had happily climbed up into the silver-shrouded woman’s lap and given her a sweet kiss on the cheek, which the photographer had managed to catch a shot of. That would make a lovely little memento for Prim and Drogo, and Bilbo hadn’t hesitated to order gift-wrapped copies of the photo.

It was after that, after Bilbo had helped Frodo find satisfactory gifts for his parents and a few of his little school friends, just as Bilbo was starting to think about stopping for lunch before they headed home, that Frodo had tugged on the hem of his jacket and wordlessly pointed over to a booth set up in one of the mall’s lounge areas:

 _WKRX Radio Wants to Hear Your Winter Wish!_

Maybe it’s a bit silly, but cute all the same. They’re recording people’s – mostly children’s, honestly, though he has seen a few starry-eyed university students in line as well – wishes, to be played on-air at commercial breaks over the next few weeks. It might be cheesy, Bilbo supposes, but the kids he’s seen have all seemed excited about being on the radio, and Frodo is no exception. The family in front of them finishes up and Bilbo and Frodo step forward into the open floor in front of the booth.

Frodo climbs up onto the stepstool, Bilbo’s hand on his back to steady him, and grasps the edge of the table in his little hands, carefully following the two DJs’ instructions of _not too close_ and _speak slowly and clearly_ and _you’re doing great, kid_ , and then, when they nod and tell him to start, he says, right into the microphone:

“My Winter Wish is for my uncle to get a boyfriend.”

“What?!” Bilbo splutters, staring down at Frodo in shock, and, oddly, hears his exclamation repeated behind him, in a young, high voice.

“Sir, we’re going to have to record again so your voice isn’t caught on the end there,” the woman at the table tells him, smiling a little as she taps away on her laptop.

The other radio host outright _leers_ , his eyes switching between Frodo and Bilbo. “Is this your uncle right here?” he asks sweetly, leaning forward with his elbows on the table to address Frodo.

“Uh-huh,” Frodo answers, nodding solemnly. “Uncle Bilbo needs a boyfriend because he’s lonely and it makes him sad, even though he pretends not to be.”

Bilbo can feel his face flaming. “That’s not—”

“ _What!_ ” the high voice shrieks behind them again, and Bilbo looks sheepishly around at the line of people behind them waiting to approach the booth. The next family at the front of the line consists of a tall, bearded man and two boys, the younger of which is glaring at Frodo like he means to set him on fire with his gaze alone.

“Kíli,” the man is saying, frowning down at the boy. “You need to be quiet until it’s your—”

“You stole my idea!” the child cries in his high, piping voice, and Bilbo feels Frodo lean into his side, as though trying to hide behind him without relinquishing his spot at the top of the footstool.

(“Oh my god,” the woman breathes behind Bilbo.)

“ _My_ Winter Wish is for _my_ uncle,” the boy, Kíli, tugs hard on the man’s hand for emphasis, “to get a boyfriend because _he’s_ lonely and sad and pretends not to be!”

(“ _Oh_ my _god_ ,” the woman says again.

“Are we recording this?” her counterpart asks.)

“Kíli,” the man tries again, looking just as mortified as Bilbo feels, though, honestly, what _he_ has to be embarrassed about Bilbo doesn’t know, what with his height and his broad shoulders and quite obviously muscular arms under that sweater that hugs his trim waist and the little streaks of distinguished grey at his temples and his blue, blue eyes that keep glancing at Bilbo and—

 _Oh no_ , he thinks.

“Well, _I_ said it first, so that means _you_ stole _my_ idea!” Frodo shoots back with a glare, still half-hiding behind Bilbo.

“Frodo,” Bilbo admonishes weakly. He can’t seem to look away from the other man’s eyes, which really are _very_ blue.

“Nuh-uh!” Kíli yells. “I _thought_ of it first!”

 _That_ finally draws Frodo out of hiding, and he pulls himself up to his full height rather indignantly. “You can’t tell when someone else thinks of something!”

“Can so!”

“Can _not_!”

“Can _so!_ ”

“ _Cannot!_ ”

“Would you like to get some coffee?!” Bilbo suddenly blurts out, still staring at the _far_ too attractive stranger.

(“ _Oh my god!_ ”

“Please, for the love of all that is holy, tell me we are recording this.”)

“Can—”

“Kee, _shut up_.” This last is said by the older boy, probably around ten or eleven, and blond where the other two are dark haired. He’s grinning wide, watching Bilbo, while his uncle looks like nothing so much as a deer caught in the headlights.

“Uh. Sure,” the man finally answers, and oh but that bright pink blush in conjunction with the deep voice and the rugged beard is simply _too much_ for Bilbo.

“I think there’s a Starbucks right around the corner here,” Bilbo suggests, smiling tentatively and tilting his head in the direction of the coffee shop.

(“Oh my _god._ ”

“Record, record, record, record—”)

“Right,” the man clears his throat and looks down at his nephews once more. “Boys, do you still want to…?”

The blond one shakes his head, still grinning. “I’m good.”

“Frodo?” Bilbo asks, glancing back at his little nephew.

“I’m hungry,” the boy says simply, and holds his arms out for his uncle to help him down from the stepstool.

“I’m sure we can get you some lunch there too,” Bilbo says as he lifts Frodo under the arms and sets him on his feet. He looks back at the radio jockeys behind the table. “Er. Thanks, for, um…”

“Oh, it was our pleasure,” the man says, and they both smile and wave as Bilbo and Frodo turn to meet the other family at the booth’s exit.

He falls into step beside the taller man, offering him the hand Frodo isn’t holding onto as they walk. “Bilbo Baggins, at your service.”

His new friend ( _date!_ ) takes his hand with a small, dare he say _shy_ smile and answers, “Thorin Durinson, at yours.”

They smile at each other for several seconds in what must be a distinctly goofy manner, but Bilbo finds he can neither help himself nor care much about how he appears. They set off towards the coffee shop, the boys trailing along behind them, and it is not until they’re at the counter ordering their drinks that Bilbo realizes they never let go of each other’s hands.

 

.

.

.

 

(“I still thought of it first,” Kíli grumbles, several weeks later, when they have met for yet another coffee-slash-play date. Thorin’s sister, Dís, had all but begged them to take the boys for the afternoon again and give her a little peace and quiet to work on her lesson plans before the new semester starts up. Frodo had been somewhat surprisingly overjoyed at the prospect of seeing Fíli and Kíli again, and had only asked that he be allowed to bring his friend Samwise with him as well. The four boys are settled at the next table over, with a muffin and cup of hot chocolate each.

Bilbo can practically hear the eye-roll in Frodo’s voice when he responds, “Then how come you didn’t get in line first, huh?”

“That wasn’t _my_ fault!” Kíli insists. “Uncle Thorin was going all slow because he kept getting distracted and looking at _your_ uncle’s bum!”

Bilbo inhales his mouthful of coffee, and at some point his hacking and coughing turns into laughter, especially when he looks up to find that his newly-minted boyfriend has gone beet red across from him and is avoiding Bilbo’s gaze. “Well,” he says, and clears his throat one more time, trying to chase away the croakiness. Thorin looks as if he’s contemplating diving into his coffee cup to hide. “I guess the boys weren’t the only ones with a Winter Wish they wanted granted that day.”

Thorin mumbles something into his coffee, his face still bright red, and Bilbo smirks and thinks that the boys aren’t the only ones whose wishes are going to come true, either.)

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me [on tumblr](http://jezunya.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
